Sleep

Dear God,

You taught me how to breathe. You flipped the light switch on the inside of me. And it was a brilliant stunt. You and you’re miracle magician’s son who lent us rest until the Holy Spirit had come. I want to lie down in green pastures and have your hands pass double portions of blessing over me. The good stuff the pure stuff the blessing that’s crushed and poured out in measures greater than half pints. We raise our hands in churches and sing words that say “lift us up.” My voice mingled with them only
I’m singing come rain down. Lift us up and rain down. If we cry out in earnest with any sound of suffering you said you would come. I know it’s there somewhere in your word how a prince shackled and dragged and spent, pleaded with you for his freedom and you heard him and you came to him. And you sing not love lost songs over us. I don’t hear them with my ears but I can feel the reverberations of them somehow when I’m passing untouched golden fields. I feel like my hands are eyes, my throat is golden and I’m dreaming of water so often but never drowning, never drowning by the purposes of man but being molded by the spirit of God as he bathes me with only himself as a lover’s lover. I have lost many days perhaps in this longest night. I never thought it would be this long. You went thru the longest night too in the garden counted the hours, wished your friends would have woken up. it is the way of man separated and never complete I understand them well. You help me to breathe again like it’s the very first time breathing in you. All my worries and my doubts and sin can be redeemed. My rebellion can be taken backwards and every day is a new day. My mother reminds me often Jesus is right here just on the other side of the looking glass waiting to pull us through to that other dimension. I find that you are everything that is everything and yet the soul wanders and wonders. Doubt is as faithful as faith. Two sides of the same coin it seems you can’t have one without the other here on this trodden down Eden. I’m like the father pleading for his son’s sickness to leave him God I believe but help my unbelief.